At the start of each shift, I do a quick circuit, marking all the touchstones. Sanitizers, wipes, toilet paper, meat, and yeast, always in that order.
Inventory, I realize, isn’t a true measure of recovery. I am, after all, wearing a mask as I walk the aisles, and the store is closed overnight, as it never used to be.
But the shelves have become an indicator of how close to normal we’re getting and how far from normal we remain.
Wipes and sanitizers are almost always absent. (Much of the limited supply, for now, is being diverted to store use.)
We’ve had toilet paper for weeks. Although the offerings in the meat case have dwindled, there’s still a good selection.
It’s the yeast shelf where the arrow usually points to empty.
Instead, shoppers receive written instructions for how to make their own from flour or “milled wheat/wheat berries.” (I don’t know about you, but I’m not doing that.)
We have received a few deliveries, but the packets always are snapped up within a day.
Weeks ago, before we grasped the enormity of the pandemic or the persistent nature of panic buying, a customer asked me where to find yeast. I led him to the section only to find it stripped clean, which puzzled both of us.
Before COVID-19, I was a regular purchaser of yeast for homemade baguettes, beignets, or my favorite crusty loaves. I’d never seen Wegmans run out. I assumed, rightly or wrongly, that few people made bread at home.
That was so long ago. Now everyone has an obsession with the staff of life.